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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060038">Twitter (etc) Dump 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint'>doublejoint</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drabbles [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, ヒプノシスマイク | Hypnosis Mic (Albums)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short fics, first posted on Twitter (or other social media) in 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aohitsugi Samatoki/Arisugawa Dice, Aomine Daiki/Midorima Shintarou, Himuro Tatsuya/Nijimura Shuuzou, Imayoshi Shouichi/Susa Yoshinori, Izuki Shun/Kiyoshi Teppei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drabbles [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/80269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. pause, izuki/kiyoshi (knb)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>initially, these are prompts from my resurrected generator.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The ease with which their relationship picks back up every time doesn’t give Izuki pause until it does, until he thinks things seem a little too smooth, a little forced-unforced. It’s not on his end; talking to Kiyoshi is the same as it always is, the same as it was when they were first-years, when Kiyoshi was in the hospital, when he was back, when they were saving up for international calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s looking a gift horse in the mouth, maybe; it’s just the way Kiyoshi is. But that’s the surface-level way of looking at it, the way people brush things off when they don’t want to get at the difficult stuff they can’t dig out cleanly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard, right?” Izuki says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean,” says Kiyoshi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers wrap tighter around Izuki’s, and Izuki will wait a little longer.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. sentimental, nijihimu (knb)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tatsuya knows he’s overly sentimental, overly attached, overly rooted in people and places and things, moments he’s retreaded so many times in his minds that the tires have worn through. The old photos he’d kept on his desk as a child, faded with the sun so as to be indecipherable to anyone else (but he can still remember whose faces the smudges were, the original color of the clothing, the green of the grass and the blue of the sky) are stacked in a box under the new desk he has now, inexpensive and more stylish and easier to move. They live there with empty bottles and business cards for companies that have long since dissolved, menus for pizzerias that have since become banks until the banks shuttered--things he will never use, whose value he will someday forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother had tried to throw most of it out; it’s why he has it here with him, safer than in his parents’ house under his mother’s deep-cleaning (and her plans for turning his room into a real guest room, not Tatsuya’s room except when he’s not there). But Shuu’s never tried to throw it out, never asked him, never thrown a judgy look. He gets it; he’s sentimental too, though in a different way. He’ll pull Tatsuya into a tea shop to try some new blend that smells just like the kind his mom used to drink when he was young (and buy some for her); he’ll run his finger along a couch in a thrift store and say he doesn’t want to buy it, but. There is some memory hooked into the fabric, rubbing against his fingers. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. camping (knb, susaima)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Really, Susa should know better by now than to get into a game of chicken with Imayoshi. Imayoshi always knows what he's doing, too, and he's never afraid to tip his hand cheerfully, let Susa know that his pleasure comes from Susa's pain (or at least, Susa's moderate annoyance). And this time, on day three of their horrible camping trip, Susa isn't sure if this is just Imayoshi dragging him along on something he's enjoying for the sake of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain is pouring down on their tent. The fire's gone out, but Susa's thermos is keeping his coffee warm, and under the sleeping bag it's relatively cozy. He's run out of books to read, though, and his options are staring at the ceiling of the tent or going out in the rain and fishing with Imayoshi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rustling at the tent entrance takes hold of Susa's attention immediately. The flap opens and Imayoshi steps in. Susa holds his sleeping bag up like a shield, but no wet-dog-like shake comes as expected. Imayoshi looks miserable, actually, setting down his fishing gear and taking off his dripping outerwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Having fun?" says Susa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Imayoshi looks at him, but pointedly does not say Susa's won. Susa rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mere."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(If Imayoshi does bring himself to admit it, Susa will try not to mind when he drinks all the coffee.)</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. terrace (knb, aomido)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aomine usually enjoys being with someone as stubborn as he is. He and Midorima can go toe-to-toe, stand firm on ridiculous issues, throw out all the advice about picking one’s battles and come out stronger on the other side--most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they move in together, the argument between house and apartment is not one that they can let die and rise again when one of them is in a combative mood, or one that they can agree to disagree on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“I don’t see why you want to maintain a house when you’ve never owned one,” Midorima says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you doubting my abilities?” says Aomine. “Besides, who wants to deal with a condo board?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who has to?” says Midorima. “Are you planning on extensive renovations?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like to be able to change the inside of our home, that we own, without someone else having to sign off on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A contractor would have to sign off. As would I, and I don’t want to live anywhere we’ll have to renovate.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not something where they can really compromise; a ground-floor apartment or the bottom half of a converted townhouse is not a halfway measure and would leave neither of them really happy. But eventually it’s Aomine who gives in, with the caveat that they get a lax condo board and a terrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d expected Midorima to fight that too, but he’s the one who uses the terrace the most. He takes his coffee outside in the morning; he likes to read in the evenings when the sun’s behind them and not glaring into his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t a backyard have been better?” Aomine says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” says Midorima. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He might have a point in that regard--if they were in a yard, or on a porch, Midorima would be able to shift away from him or move to another piece of furniture. Here, there’s only the small bench where Aomine practically has to sit on top of him. But a house would still be better.)</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. samadice, chasing butterflies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dice pretends to sleep, and Samatoki lets him get away with it until he forgets that Dice isn’t really sleeping, or perhaps he thinks Dice actually is sleeping even though he’s changed nothing, one eye half-open and breathing no deeper. Or, really, it’s neither; it’s an acknowledgement that they’re sharing the space and Dice can do what he wants with it, that Samatoki will be next to him, his hand in Dice’s hair, changing the channels on the TV until he’s seen them all and then goes again (and Dice comes close to sitting up and telling him to just fucking pic one; a few times he has and Samatoki has dropped the remote in his hand, and Dice has placed it facedown on the coffee table only for Samatoki to pick it up again a few seconds later). Or Samatoki will get up, wash the dishes that have been sitting in the sink since yesterday, clean out the ashtray, set up the coffee maker and turn it on. He’s not far enough or quiet enough for Dice to miss him too much; there is space for Dice to come and bother Samatoki if he likes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, usually, he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dice likes games of chance, things that aren’t solid, characterized more by their absence and what they aren’t than what they are. Nothing’s fun if it’s an easy win, if you can sneak up on it and pin it down, or you can approach and it will give you the same reaction ten times out of ten. What’s a certain thing next to a little risk? What’s a little risk next to a lot? The fall is always worth the rush, the chance to come close to winning even if you bottom out. He didn’t choose to like that, to gravitate towards chance, but it’s too deeply-rooted in him to be worth changing, despite people’s best efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Samatoki should be too steady for him, his boots too heavy on the ground; he is too much what he is at face value, not out of any effort on his part. He beats Dice at poker by luck; he looks at Dice when he’s talking like he’s seriously interested in knowing what Dice has to say. He looks hard and he’s not--soft, exactly, but he folds up easily, a porcupine sheathing its quills, at least once he trusts Dice enough (and Dice isn’t stupid enough to think Samatoki trusts him all the way, let him into the softness that’s there under the quills). His layers are simple and visible. Dice should find him unappealing, but the only inexplicable thing about Samatoki is that he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“So you find something like that refreshing?” says Gentaro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” says Dice, because it’s not like cold water over his head on a hot day, or even a crisp drink after a long walk; it’s uncomfortable the way a rock in his shoe is.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I?” says Dice, darting in to light his cigarette on Samatoki’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve already done it,” says Samatoki, but he’s not mad; he always lets Dice bum a light off him and sometimes lends him a little money--enough to buy into a game and let his luck run until it runs out, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soles of Samatoki’s boots are scuffed, worn halfway through on the heels. He always wears them down until the nails poke out of the soles and scrape the sidewalk--couldn’t he afford not to? Dice leans closer; Samatoki shifts and exhales a cloud of smoke. The sky is grey today, but there’s not much fog and no rain yet, but still the smoke disappears without the contrast sooner than Dice expects it to.</span>
</p>
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